Across Oceans, Through Time: Memoir of Two Friends
by slackpracticerepeat
Summary: Call us K and A. We used to be an admiral and a saniwa, respectively. But before that we were friends, to each other and to the kanmusus and touken danshis we met. So excuse the cliche, but- This is our story. ((In the form of a memoir. Set in a vaguely fantasy-like world. Contains shipxship, swordxsword, swordxship, admiralxship and saniwaxsword.))
1. Prologue

**K: Hey.**

**A: What.**

**K: You wanna write a memoir?**

**A: In here?**

**K: Well we've got pen and paper and way too much time on our hands. Sounds like the perfect thing to do.**

**A: ...Why not. Sounds more productive than trying out what would be the least painful and easiest way to kill ourselves in here. **

**K: Do we need a prologue?**

**A: I guess. **

**K: Hm. How's this?**

* * *

Letting a couple of kids barely out of high school and desperate to pay for college tuition lead large-scale war on beings threatening our past, present, and future was probably a bad idea.

But holy fuck.

We were getting paid for this shit.

And that's what mattered.

* * *

**K: Sound good? I feel like we need like a more serious follow up that foreshadows what's gonna happen.**

**A: Why the fuck do we need foreshadowing in a memoir? It's literally just a recollection of our lives.**

**K: Dunno, something about storytelling that we learned in Language Arts and forgot.**

**A: Not easy to remember that kinda shit when we're struggling to not eat the pen and paper we're writing with/on right now...here. **

* * *

Or at least that's what we thought when we started out.

But sometimes things don't end in the same spirit that they started with, right?

So if this shitty little sentimental collection of ours ever finds its way out of this place and to whoever you are, we would highly appreciate it if you took the time to read it.

* * *

**K: Perfect.**

**A: Thanks. **


	2. 1: Yo think of a good title for here

**K: So this is where the actual story begins. Do I write this thing in first person or third person? **

**A: Go with first person. Third personing yourself is just weird.**

**K: That's what I thought. **

* * *

It was right around the end of my senior year in high school when I saw the ad flying around the neighborhood. Something about protecting what's left of our land from Abyssals or something. They didn't exactly say "what's left" of our land, but come on, I still remember the times when the American West Coast wasn't annexed by the Kingdom of Mother Fuckin' Atlantis.

I didn't pay much attention to it at first. Wasn't that big into joining the military since I was planning go to college.

But then I learned that if I sign up for that job the flyers were advertising, I get to be around a bunch of mecha girls in pretty costumes that I can touch up all I want because they work under me, so I jumped on board to get some titties.

...Wait, back up, I sound like a pervert. Let's go step by step.

(A says I am a pervert, but honestly, who hates tits? Or little girls? I'm not a pervert.)

* * *

"The fee for college is...is..."

I couldn't bring myself to say the amount aloud.

"...Aren't there any scholarships or financial aid available?!" I whisper-yelled in fear, eyes glued to the paper instead of my financial councilor.

"This _is_ the cost with all those scholarships and financial aid you applied for," she replied. "And it's not for sure if you'll actually qualify for half those things."

"Oh god, is it such a crime to want to go to college...? Jesus, my family will go broke if this really is the cost," I muttered.

"Well, I suppose universities need money to survive, too..." the councilor sighed, "and if this turns out being too expensive to manage, you know there are other affordable options.

"But..." I squeezed the university flyer.

"...We'll do everything we can to help you through this."

All I did in response was to knead my forehead with my fingers. Being accepted to THE best university out there and just having to give up what's right in my reach because of money...at that point I wasn't the kind of person who could accept that.

Call me spoiled and full of myself, but right until then, I could pretty much get any kind of academic-related things with minimal effort. I was a smart student, and although I did procrastinate a bit (actually a lot), at any rate I kept my grades up, got into summer camps, and the teachers were willing to write me any recommendation letters I asked for. Sure I've heard that in college, it's different, that you actually have to study, but I figured I'd cross that bridge when I got there.

Except at that rate, I wasn't even going to get anywhere close to that bridge.

"I'll figure something out," I muttered. "I always do."

* * *

"Join the fight to protect our land and retake the ocean! Sign up here!"

It was the annoying flyer guy again. He's been running around the campus lately, in what must've been his best attempt to recruit people to...whatever cause that was about. Normally I would've ignored him like everyone else, but it turns out that money does funny things to people, because my legs suddenly went on autopilot and I found myself walking towards the otherwise ignored recruiter.

"I'm interested in the job," I said. "Tell me some advantages about it."

He blinked.

"Uh..this job? It doesn't pay that well, I mean basically I'm being paid to throw around posters nobody will look at for an entire afternoon and it's barely-"

"No, not this job, _that_ job," I said, pointing at the poster.

"...Oh," he replied. "Holy shit, you're actually going to sign up?"

"If you tell me more about it, I might," I said. "It's recruiting officers or something like that, so...how long do we have to be on the battlefront for?"

"Two years, plus one year of training," he replied.

I raised my eyebrows. Only one year of training? I knew jack shit about military but that sounds a bit short for whatever big job we're supposed to do. Well, whatever as long as it...

"Does it pay well?"

"Oh, definitely," he answered.

"How well?" I lifted up the paper I had crumpled in my fist. "Well enough to pay for all of this? Or at least a large chunk?"

The recruiter glanced at the paper and back at me, apparently just then realizing that I was at least semi-serious.

"...Well enough to pay for that and for you to live the rest of your life without ever worrying about money again," he said.

"Sounds like a heavy promise they're making," I muttered. "This isn't bait or anything, is it?"

"Trust me, it's not a bait. They wouldn't lie about things like this."

I looked back at the school building, then at what must be a group of freshman hanging out near a tree.

"Is there a catch?"

Well, if it's not bait, there's always a catch to these kinds of things, aren't there?

He breathed in. "You'll really get paid that well...provided that you manage to survive the entire three years."

"...Any other advantages?" I asked, continuing my scan through all the kids outside.

"You get to work with a bunch of cute girls in short skirts," he said quickly, scratching his head and looking away.

_...Y'know, screw all that about protecting our lands and reclaiming the seas_, I thought, _if they really wanted people to sign up for the job, they should've advertised the cute girls in short skirts part all over the place. Preferably with photos_

"Hell yeah, sign me up."

* * *

**K: I think this is how it went down. The memory's a bit fuzzy, though so...yeah.**

**A: Why did you not ask why girls in short skirts were involved in a war like that?**

**K: No idea. I myself don't understand how I acted eight years ago. I mean I do. But I don't.**

**A: I hear you. Or read you. Write. Whatever. Not thinking clearly right now. **


	3. 2: blargh leave it untitled for now

**A: Alright. My turn. I'll try not to be too repetitive and just pick up when you told me about the whole deal.**

**K: Sounds good.**

**A: You okay with the writing style being a little bit different?**

**K: Yeah, variety's the spice of life. Must apply to what's left of ours, too. **

* * *

When she told me about that officer training thing or whatever she'd get into, the first question I had was why she didn't tell me earlier.

K and I, we've been together quite literally since birth. I was born on 11:59 pm of February 3rd, and she was born on 12:00 am of February 4th. No, we're not twins- we're not even related, but at any rate, if there's such thing as fate I'd like to believe that's it.

Born in the same hospital, barely a minute apart, in beds right next to each other. Then it turns out our families were next-door neighbors. From then on we were always together, from kindergarten to middle school to high school. Wherever she went, I went, and wherever I went, she went. And that was the plan for college as well, but as K explained in the previous chapter...ridiculous tuition.

Well, my financial situation wasn't any better, and we're always by each other, so second question I had was, "Where do I sign up for this shit?"

* * *

Days, weeks, and months flew by. We should have attended our graduation, dressed in black robes, walking in a single file to receive our diploma, hearing our valedictorian give a speech and laugh when they say "sex" instead of "success", but turns out the schedule for our departure doesn't care about such things.

Our diplomas arrived that morning via mail, and since we couldn't take too many personal items with us, it was left behind.

We exchanged our goodbyes with family friends, saying we'll be fine, it's not that long and it'll pass before you know it, and even if it costed us three years after that we won't have to worry about money ever again and attend university like everyone else, etc.

It was sad, sure, but we must not have been thinking that much about what would come next.

Because when our escort, a.k.a. the recruiter, asked us before boarding the train:

"This is your last chance. Is this really worth it?"

in a tone far more serious than the tone we'd ever imagined, our breathes hitched just a little bit before replying,

"...Yeah. Of course!"

"Why do you ask?"

in a manner that was just a little too light.

* * *

We fell asleep after the first hour or two of meddling with our phones and chatting. Not the type to survive a long train ride without sleeping through most of it, nope.

The next time I opened my eyes, it didn't take long for me to realize something was off. The dark, empty environment around me sure as hell did not look like the train we fell asleep on or the training center we were told we'd go to. Best case scenario, this was some kind of rather messed up initiation ceremony. The worst case scenario...

_"Choose." _

...the worst case scenario, there would be some creepy-ass disembodied voice telling me to do shit without giving a premise.

* * *

Well, the voice told me to choose.

So I chose.

I really should have known something was wrong when all my "choices" were a bunch of guys standing in the distance who looked like they popped out of some manga instead of a bunch of girls who looked like they popped out of the same medium. They did promise that we'd get to work with cute girls in short skirts, after all.

But hey, when you wake up in a strange place and hear a scary voice, that's not the first thing that would come to someone's mind.

Playing a really fucked up game of elimination in my already irrational brain, I figured that the red nail polish dude, emo cape dude, fabulous purple hair dude, and the sparkly gold dude did not look reliable at all. Whatever that meant to me at the time.

"...Spiky ponytail puppy-hair dude, I choose you?" I said.

I wasn't quite sure how he got there, but when the dark cleared up, the ponytail puppy hair dude was kneeling down where I was sprawled out, reaching his hand out to me.

"I'm Mutsunokami Yoshiyuki. Since I've went through the trouble of coming here, I'll seize the world!"

I slowly took his hand, stood up, then let go of it after an awkward handshake.

"Nice to meet you...Mutsu...noka..." I stuttered.

"Mutsunokami, Yoshiyuki," the young man repeated cheerfully. "Some variation of Mutsu is fine."

Mutsu. That sounded more manabeable. Although I figured I should learn his full name somewhere down the line.

I cleared my throat. "Again, nice to meet you. Uh, is that the way to finding cute girls in short skirts I was promised...?"

Mutsuwhateverhisnameis scrunched his eyebrows together. "What d'ya mean? Y'know that all of us swords are guys, right, saniwa?"

Looking back, I must have looked like an idiot. My eyes went as blank as my mind, and all that came out of my mouth was:

"Um. Uh. That's. Uh."

or some variation.

Five minutes later, the first intelligible sentence I managed to put together to show my general feelings on the situation was, "God fucking dammit."

* * *

**K: So that's what went down. Pretty wild bro.**

**A: Damn right it was. By the way, is there a particular tone or attitude we're going for in this thing?**

**K: Well, we're not professional writers and it's not like we're gonna showcase this thing to the world, so...**

**A: ...just roll with what comes out of the pen.**

**K: Exactly.**

**A: Nice.**


End file.
